Lesson
by Uber Scoober
Summary: A young Rosalia wishes to spend some time with her new family.


There were two figures inside the study; one, a young teenager, the other, a man in his late 30s.

With only their backs visible, all that could be deduced was that the dead silent teenager was reading a sizable encyclopedia while the man was explaining its contents, further proven by him occasionally sliding his finger at various parts of the pages.

All it took was the tiniest creak of the wooden floor for the man to realise that someone was spying on them. He quietly turned around to see the source of the disturbance.

"Rose?" addressed Albert Sartre. "Is there something you need?" he asked, surprised at this unprecedented event.

It had only been a little over six months since Rosalia Rossellini became his beloved daughter. However, in all that time, Rose had never interrupted his private tutoring sessions.

The girl held onto the doorframe with her delicate fingers before finally summoning the courage to reveal herself.

Her appearance hadn't changed at all since her days at the orphanage. She still wore her simple white dress, light brown sandals, and short mint hair. However, she also still possessed her shy, timid demeanour and often displayed her signature melancholic expression.

"Th-there was nothing on." explained the fragile girl. Her voice was barely audible to her new father.

She paused, rubbing her wrists while her eyes were glued to the floor. This only made Sartre's worry increase.

"I was wondering," Rose resumed, butterflies swarming inside her stomach, "Could-could I maybe... join you and Erhard?"

Sartre's eyes widen as a result of what he just heard.

"Of course you can, Rose! Of course, you can!" Sartre answered, each word oozing with joy.

The scientist's happiness spread across the room and infected his daughter, presenting itself as a tiny smile across her face.

Sartre turned to the other figure in sitting next to him, his excitement not wavering at all.

"Erhard!" Sartre beamed. "Is it alright if Rose joins us today?"

The young teenager turned around, his eyes scanning her little sister anxiously fiddling her fingers while the rest of her was still as a statue.

"Alright." responded Erhard, finally breaking his silence.

There was no hint of annoyance in his response, but no hint of joy, a stark contrast to their father. Rose's heart sank and her smile faded.

Her attention was then pulled towards an empty chair, placed in the middle of her family.

Rose sighed. She didn't have it in her to refuse now. She slowly made her way towards her chair, both her back and head tilted down.

Sartre's once brimmed enthusiasm immediately soured. He turned his head towards Erhard who was oblivious to the scowl on his face.

Rose carefully climbed up the chair and sat comfortably, wondering what lesson her father was teaching.

"So Professor Sartre, may we continue with today's lesson?" Erhard asked calmly.

Not once did he even acknowledge Rose's presence, she might as well have been a ghost.

Sartre pinched the corner of his eyes and took a deep breath, quietly soothing his budding frustration.

"Actually, why don't we suspend today's lesson and do something a little different?" said Sartre, his voice not really attempting to hide his contempt. It didn't seem like it would've made a difference anyway.

"Yes?"

He was right.

"I was thinking we should allow Rose to choose a topic."

Rose turned her head in surprise.

"Whatever topic she chooses, you must explain to her in a way that she can understand." Sartre continued. "The best way to determine how well you know a subject is how well you can simplify the information and explain it to someone else. If you do not have a complete understanding of even the basics then I'm afraid it is pointless to move on."

Sartre looked at his daughter.

"Is that alright with you, Rose?"

Rose's eyes brightened.

"Y-Yes!"

She quickly turned her head to witness her brother's reaction.

"I understand." Erhard responded, finding his mentor's logic to be sound. He then looked at Rose.

"So Rosalia, what do you want to know about?"

"I-I..." Rose stuttered. "I, um..."

"It's okay, Rose." Sartre comforted. "Just take your time."

Rose nodded and placed her hands on her lap, pondering in thought.

After a few seconds, she raised her head and looked at Erhard.

"Can you tell me everything you know about viruses?"

Of course, she would pick that topic among all things.

"Okay." Erhard nodded.

"A virus is a microorganism, meaning that it cannot be seen with the naked eye. They are usually made up of a coat that is made of protein, and inside is its genetic material, which can either be DNA or RNA."

Erhard paused for a brief second.

"Do you know what DNA and RNA are?" he asked.

"Y-yes." replied the eight-year-old. Sartre snickered.

"Okay." Erhard said, continuing with his explanation.

"And what viruses do is that they infect a living cell and essentially take over the cell. So what happens, is that the cell now becomes a factory that produces more viruses. After the cell is full of new viruses, the cell bursts open like a balloon, releasing all the new viruses so that they can infect more cells, and the old cell dies in the process."

Rose's eyes shrank as her mouth opened halfway, releasing a quiet but audible horrified gasp.

How can something whose only purpose is to destroy other living things exist?

Rose buried her hands, her posture wilted as she stared downwards.

"So, uh... these v-viruses..." Rose paused, needing to take another short breath as her lungs felt constricted. "Are-are they alive? I-I mean, do they not feel bad that they do something so awful?" she asked, raising her head timidly.

"Well. Viruses are unique because they are not made of cells, they don't grow, and they need a host to reproduce. These characteristics aren't shared by other living organisms. In a way, they are considered both living and non-living." explained Erhard, wondering why Rose was beginning to tense up.

However, Sartre immediately understood the cause of Rose's discomfort. He placed his hand upon her shoulder.

"Rose."

The girl turned her head, her eyes began to water.

"I need you to know this."

Rose nodded delicately, only letting out one minuscule whimper in order to properly hear what her father had to say.

"I need you to know that you are **nothing** like a virus, let alone like the one inside you." spoke Sartre directly, placing humongous emphasis on the word 'nothing'.

Rose nodded again.

"You are the kindest, sweetest, and most caring person I know. The only thing you spread is joy and happiness wherever you go. In fact, your brother could learn a thing or two from you."

Rose rubbed her eyes, her vision was beginning to blur. Was that really true?

Sartre gently placed his other hand on her other shoulder and leaned closer until their eyes levelled.

"And I am the luckiest person to have you as my daughter."

It only took one second for Rose to launch herself towards her father as she latched on for a tight embrace. She welded her eyes shut in a futile attempt to contain her emotions but to no avail, tears have already streamed down her face, dampening the scientist's white coat with tiny droplets.

"There, there, my little Rose." Sartre whispered, caressing her back.

It would also seem that the origin of how she got her nickname had also not changed in the past six months.

"Why don't you pick another topic for your brother? Okay?"

"O-okay." replied Rose softly, her crying now reduced to mere hiccups.

Erhard sat in complete silence, smiling internally that his little sister seems to be happy while he patiently waits for the next topic Rose wanted to learn about.


End file.
